


Initiation

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, First Meetings, Gen, Post-Omnic Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Hanzo & Zenyatta* Zenyatta and Hanzo’s first meeting (implied: where Zenyatta chooses to focus on the other living Shimada and isn’t going to take no for an answer, just like with the other sibling.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written taking inspiration from THIS POST, only i allowed myself to veer from this, a little.
> 
> I am unsure whether to continue this, and if I do, I'd like to explore a possible Hanzo/Zenyatta pairing, but eh *shrug* though I'd love to try writing them fighting. I might have a thing for that.
> 
> ALSO: what I learned with my attempt to write Hanzo is that he and Zenyatta would exchange trite phrases and smartass lines completely seriously. I love it. let me do this forever. I had fun writing Hanzo... help.

**Initiation**

 

The room of the pub was well lit, open and clean.

There were a few patrons mulling about, a young couple holding hands at the counter, sipping fancy drinks and a burly-looking omnic in the far back who was cleaning the tables. It was otherwise empty, which suited Hanzo well, as he was not there to make small talk with anyone.

He was sitting at one of the tables in the back, away from the omnic and with his back to the door; this offered a casual, fake laid-back appearance to whoever happened to look at him, as it made it seem that he was not alert and would be easy to surprise.

As it was, despite the small bottle of sake placed in front of him, next to a white, polished cup half-full, he was far too alert, fingers scratching idly at the wood of the table, mouth full of sake.

In all his life, Hanzo had never found himself lacking for anything he wished to have –his father’s attention, interesting things to learn, and later in life, people to blame for his mistakes, and alcohol.

His relaxed stance did not mean he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings, as he’d been trained since childhood to never lower his guard, never let anyone get past his radar, even when he was enjoying a quiet moment alone.

As he nursed another small sip of alcohol, feeling the burning liquid lick its way down his throat, Hanzo was perfectly aware of the other patrons of the pub and where they were. At any time, if one of them tried to engage with him –or if anyone else attempted something– he would deal with them quickly and efficiently… and part of him wanted something to happen, if only to make the day a little less boring. A little less dull.

Things had been dull for years, now.

Instead, nothing continued to happen, and he gingerly downed the last liquid from his cup and poured himself a refill, grunting in displeasure at himself and at the world at large.

When the door of the pub opened and closed, letting inside a small gust of wind, Hanzo did not turn around to look, but he did glance up at the wall in front of him, where there was a fancy painting of a movie actor; reflected in the glass panel of the painting, he could see a distorted version of the pub behind his back, and keep an eye out on what was going on. His eyes took notice of the incomer –another omnic. He dismissed it, and gulped down another small sip of sake.

Soft footsteps signalled him that the new patron was walking down to the back of the pub, but he ignored it, until they came to a stop right behind him.

Shoulders tense, he waited… and waited some more.

Nothing happened.

His fingers tightened around the cup, feeling the edges of it cut into the skin of his fingertips, and he wondered, idly, whether he would have enough coin on him to pay for the repairs of the pub if the fight ended up thrashing the place too much.

“I have never seen this movie before,” a soft voice spoke up, startling him. “Have you? It seems like it would be fun”.

Hanzo had enough control on himself to steer the annoyance down instead of saying anything, and refused to turn around and dignify the omnic stranger with a reply.

“Forgive me for my impudence,” the omnic continued, the metallic edge of his voice sounding open, and warm, and detestable. “Would you mind if I were to sit down?”

This had Hanzo snort, and he brought the cup of sake to his lips again. “Do I have a choice?” he asked.

“There is always a choice,” was the soft, amused reply, yet the line was given with no punchline, as if the omnic was answering him seriously. “What you do with this power is up to you, but there is always a choice”.

“Well then, why don’t you sit down and cut the chase? I was spending some quality time on my own, and I’d prefer to return to that, if _you_ don’t mind”.

A hum was his only reply, and then the omnic walked around the table to sit in front of him, finally showing himself to Hanzo, who had only caught a glimpse of him through a bad reflection.

The omnic was tall, and entirely nondescript in appearance, with nine dots on his forehead and long limbs. The face plate had been carved to appear amiable, the tilt of the eye-holes giving Hanzo the impression of someone always smiling despite the lack of lips. He was not wearing a shirt, and the amount of uncovered wires and circuits made something tick in the back of his mind, but he could not connect that with anything. He blamed that on the light buzz of the sake.

The only honestly weird thing about the omnic was that he had a row of big orbs hanging around his neck. Hanzo wondered how he could walk around with so much weight on his neck, then promptly ignored that idle thought, as he didn’t really care.

“Thank you for your allowance, Shimada Hanzo,” the omnic nodded at him, a small tilt of his head, and Hanzo had to give it to him –at least he knew customs.

“You leave me in a position of disadvantage, as you know me, but I do not know you,” he replied, the words rolling on his tongue without particular inflection.

“Do forgive me. I am Tekhartha Zenyatta,” the omnic replied amiably, and his voice sounded like a smile. “I have known of you for a while, but I thought prudent to keep my thoughts to myself until I found the time to meet you”.

“Informed decision,” he sneered, lips tilted up in an empty smile. “There is much to know of me, and yet there is little to be known about me”.

“What is there to know about anyone, that is nothing but a mask we present to the world?” Zenyatta replied in kind, though there was no scorn in his voice.

Hanzo’s fingers slipped around the cup, taken aback but not wanting to give this omnic –this Zenyatta– the satisfaction of knowing that, so he brought his hand down, placing the cup on the table, and leaned forwards, offering him his best glare.

Neither of them spoke, seconds ticking by slowly, time stretching forwards. Zenyatta did not seem in any hurry to talk, and while Hanzo had grown to learn how to be patient through trial and error, there were limits even for him.

“If–” he started, his tone biting, only to be interrupted by Zenyatta’s voice, “You two are truly, remarkably similar”.

Again, he found himself unsettled, and the feeling set him even more on edge than before. “Who?” he asked, lips stretched into a displeased grimace.

“You and your brother, Genji,” unaware of the turmoil he’d started within Hanzo, Zenyatta continued speaking as if nothing was wrong, his voice taking on a gentle, fond tone. “There is much the same disquiet within your soul as I have found in him, but also the same kind of raw, restrained strength”.

Hanzo was on his feet before realising it, hands holding onto the edge of the table, full of righteous fury and disgust that rolled off his body, the energy humming under his skin taking the shape of scales and sharp teeth, almost visible to the naked eye. The sake bottle rattled on the surface of the table but did not spill.

“Is this his idea of fun?” he hissed through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed in anger. “Sending an omnic to me with taunting falsities wrapped within layers of politeness?”

“Please, sit down,” Zenyatta responded. He had yet to move an inch from his seat, body relaxed and at ease, hands on the table and fingers intertwined together. Deceptively calm, and yet the orbs around his neck were vibrating. “Genji did not send me, I chose to come of my own volition”.

“I do not have to sit there and listen to any of this,” Hanzo looked at what was left of his sake mournfully, then bent to grab his bag and the bow he’d placed on the ground, at the table’s side, turned around and stormed to the counter, dropping a few coins in front of the barkeeper before exiting the pub.

His mood soured at the meeting with the omnic, Hanzo had no interest in waiting around, or even drinking anymore. Already, his decision to spend some hours relaxing had proved to be a wrong one, as that time would have been much better spent doing something else.

Training, perhaps. Hunting down someone, even better. Or…

“Perhaps,” he stated, his voice chilly as he spoke out loud, “my time would be better spent teaching an omnic a lesson”.

Behind him there was a soft sound, like a vibration, perhaps. He did not feel any ill intent coming from the omnic following him, and yet he did not relax. After all, instead of desisting, Zenyatta had chased him down.

He obviously had a death wish.

“What lesson would there be to learn, that has to be taught through violence?”

Hanzo gritted his teeth. “One that obviously _needs_ to be taught, perhaps about how perseverance can be unlearned when it brings you into the gaping maws of a dragon”.

“I have seen such sight, but it is a tame look to behold when the dragon’s roar is a warning of pain, instead of rage,” Zenyatta’s voice was still so even, so composed, that it made Hanzo feel foolish, and almost chastised at the way he’d so easily lost composure due to the simple mention of the man that called himself his brother.

Lies.

“What pain you find is just a reflection of the one you will feel on your own skin,” Hanzo replied, cracking his knuckles. “Desist now, or prepare to face the rage of Shimada Hanzo”.

“If one has to forge a path to healing, sometimes there has to be concessions made,” Zenyatta answered gently. “If the only language you speak is that of violence, the answer must always be one that leads past that, to acceptance and forgiveness”.

Hanzo turned around in a flash. Zenyatta was hovering in mid-air, the orbs that had been dormant on his neck now floating in lazy circles around him. Waiting.

He could not read this omnic’s expression, but Hanzo felt no fear, nor worry.

No soul could stop an attack coming from him, and he was prepared to make this lesson count.

“Let us see where your resolution leaves you,” he spat, bringing one arm up in a hither-to motion. “Only one of us will make it to see today’s sunset, and defeat shall not be mine”.

Zenyatta’s laughter was soft, amused and happy, and Hanzo felt it rub him wrong, like nails on a chalkboard, a discordant sound he did not like.

“Then we shall see where your confidence wanes in the face of Tranquillity”.

 


End file.
